


misplaced

by starksnack



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Female Tony Stark, M/M, Magic, Memory Alteration, Temporary Amnesia, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack
Summary: There's something fundamental missing from Steve's life and the moment he wakes up he feels the loss like a knife to the chest.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Stark, Stony
Comments: 11
Kudos: 168
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2020





	misplaced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jayjayverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayjayverse/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Goodbye Steve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086329) by [jayjayverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayjayverse/pseuds/jayjayverse). 



> I had so much fun working with Jay's incredible art which should be tagged above. Tig also wrote an incredible fic for the same art piece which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23984671/).
> 
> Special thanks to my betas [JehBeeEh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehBeeEh/pseuds/JehBeeEh) and [venomous-soliloquy](https://venomous-soliloquy.tumblr.com/)

Something is missing.

Steve can feel it in the depths of his soul even as his mind can’t remember exactly what it is grasping for. He stands by the window of his bedroom in Avengers tower. He doesn’t really remember how he got here, just that it’s the asscrack of dawn and he’s standing in just boxers looking out at the city.

Somehow he knows the glass is one way and no one can see in, he remembers being taken to look at the bedroom windows from the outside but he can’t recall Thor showing him and he’s the only person on the team who can fly. A weird kind of unsettled feeling washes over him and his stomach turns uneasily in anticipation of something, but Steve can’t determine what.

He takes a deep breath, in and out, his eyes sliding shut as he tries to calm his nerves. He feels the soft note of a soothing voice speaking in his ear telling him to relax, saying that everything will be okay. Immediately his anxiety is pacified and Steve drops his head, shoulders slumped as his eyes flutter open again.

New York is waking up, beautiful as the sun peeks up over the horizon and glitters across the glass skyscrapers dominating the horizon. He has this view memorised, has drawn it so many times lying in bed on lazy weekend mornings to watch the sun creep higher and higher as the day presses on. The light reflects beautifully off the Chrysler building, dominating most of the view along with the Empire State building a couple of blocks away. The bright and fluffy clouds are pinking as they hang in the sky, light and airy and everything that Steve feels. He’s far from grounded in this time period and he can’t seem to figure out why an unmoored feeling has settled in his chest.

It feels like waking up from the ice all over again, but instead of missing a whole lot of time to a chilly nap, he feels like he’s missing his whole life to a cruel joke. Steve’s fists clench and he frowns. Something is wrong he can feel it nagging at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t quite scratch. He sighs trying to let the feeling go. It’s not something he can control right now so he has to focus on the things that are in his power.

Setting his forehead against the cool glass, Steve watches pedestrians racing across the street. The good people of the city Steve protects are in a rush, never stopping to take in the beauty of the place Steve would give his life to protect. There are buses carting schools of children to their classrooms and the sidewalks are peppered with joggers getting in their morning workouts. A couple of people are out walking dogs and Steve smiles, he loves petting puppies, it always brightens his day and he would give anything to spend the whole day doing that. Being a part of the Avengers makes every day all worth it. Getting to watch the hustle of the morning commute and know that he is keeping all of these people out of harm’s way makes all the pain and the sacrifice meaningful.

Raising his hands, he braces them against the cold glass, fingertips whitening under the pressure. The clack of metal against glass sounds loud in the quiet of Steve’s mind and he startles out of his thoughts to focus on his hands in confusion.

There’s a heavy band around his fourth finger and he runs his thumb across it curiously. It’s clearly a wedding band indicated by the expensive material and crushed rubies and sapphires embedded in the metal. It’s absolutely breathtaking though he can’t quite figure out who it is his heart belongs to. He takes it off to examine it closer, his heart warming with the memory of someone who doesn’t exist to his brain. He doesn’t remember getting married though the metal is engraved with the initials “T.S.”

Frowning, Steve cocks his head to the side, he can’t for the life of him recall who that’s even supposed to stand for. Taylor Swift comes to mind, but that doesn’t fit quite right because Steve doesn’t think he could marry another American sweetheart. Troye Sivan is one of Steve’s favourite artists to listen to while painting, but getting a ring engraved with his initials doesn’t really make sense. Neither does The Sims, but Steve does love that game.

With the game comes the memory of thin fingers tapping against a glass keyboard and a high tinkling laugh that settles Steve’s nerves. He feels the ghost of calloused hands showing him how to navigate the map. A warm feeling rushes through his chest and Steve feels a smile spreading across his face despite himself. There’s a melodious voice that accompanies it and Steve feels a blush bloom across his cheeks and down his chest as his heart flutters.

Just as fast as the feeling is there, it’s gone and Steve is left feeling like his whole life is at the tip of his tongue just waiting to spill past his pliant lips. He wants it to come forth so badly. It’s like waking up from the ice but a lot bigger and not through the fault of time passing but the unreliable retelling of his own mind. There’s something missing, stolen from him unbeknownst to the depths of his memories but Steve can’t for the life of him figure out the magnitude of what it is he’s lost.

It’s big though, he does know that. It’s everything to him, his anchor in this time, and not knowing makes him feel unmoored, lost at sea and drowning in all the memories he can remember, but missing the air from who he needs most. Steve spins his ring around his finger, a nervous tick he doesn’t remember picking up but it comforts him anyway in its foreign constancy. His hands come up to his neck to grab for the chain of his dog tags to put the ring on there too only to find that they’re not around his neck.

Steve’s stomach growls in protest and hunger claws at his insides. He has a big appetite so maybe a hearty meal is what he needs. Hopefully a trip to the communal kitchen for eggs and bacon will jog his memory and he’ll be able to get his thoughts together in some semblance of order that doesn’t make his mind ache. Then he’ll be able to solve the mystery of his memories and maybe also the case of the missing dog tags.

Heading to the walk-in closet, Steve pauses at the door, brows furrowed in confusion yet again. It’s mostly empty which is weird cause he’s been living in the tower for years now, enough time to have amassed a couple of wardrobes worth of clothes and yet, his closet is only filled about an eighth of the allotted space. He needs to go shopping, soon. Maybe he’ll ask Sharon for help with that. She always knows best where to get the most fashionable outfits for him.

A fragment of a memory pokes at the edges of Steve’s brain and he vaguely recalls someone telling him you can never have too many clothes. According to his closet, Steve clearly should have taken the advice. The thought is accompanied by the motion of turning in front of the mirror in a dress, Steve’s heart melting in the warmth of the mental image. It makes a whole zoo stampede through his stomach but it’s a feeling he finds he’s used to and enjoys. He doesn’t know if the memories are his own, but he wants the happiness to be his in all its entirety.

Maybe dresses are his thing and that’s what he’s missing? He obviously doesn’t recall ever wearing one, but he’s not totally closed off to the idea. He doesn’t know why the feelings of silk fabric beneath his fingertips resonates so deeply with him, but he so desperately wants to feel that happy again that he’s willing to try. Then again, there are no dresses among whatever is in his closet so he doesn’t quite know where the feeling is coming from. Maybe he could ask Sharon about helping him find a dress in his size.

What a weird morning. It’s been almost ten years since he came out of the ice and yet he’s still feeling like he’s missing something. He should be all caught up by now, at least in all the ways that count. This lost feeling should have been left in the past. The fact that it’s back feels like a taunt and he hates it with every inch of his being. 

Dressing in his uniform, Steve takes his time with fastening all of the buckles and securing all of the zippers. The Kevlar and leather fit against his skin like a glove and Steve slides his hands over his chest feeling more like himself now that he has his suit on. There’s no call to assemble so it’s kind of silly for him to put on the cowl, but Captain America always knows what to do and Steve hopes the persona will ground him through whatever riot his memory seems to be throwing.

_ “Oh Captain, my Captain. You are so incredibly beautiful in leather...” _

The words come from deep within the steel trap of his mind, the voice caressing his skin like a warm hug. He can’t remember Peggy saying anything that provocative to him, or Bucky teasing him with those kinds of words. Despite that, they feel like something close to his heart, like he should be laughing at some inside joke he can’t recall.

Steve takes the elevator down to the communal floor, foot tapping impatiently as he waits for the doors to slide open. The ride is surprisingly silent and Steve feels the need to talk out loud to absolutely no one while confined in the glass box rocketing to his destination. The elevator ride down is when he usually gets his weather forecast and daily news update. With his brows furrowed, Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket. It feels different in his hands, not glass but metal and plastic with an icon of a bitten apple on the back. Weird, it should be a sleek swoosh, not a weird fruit.

This isn’t right.

At least today is supposed to be bright and sunny. Despite everything else going wrong, the weather is cooperating and Steve is grateful for every little win he gets. Hopefully, that will be enough to put him in a good mood and motivate him through his day.

Stepping out onto the communal floor, Steve looks both ways before crossing into the kitchen. None of his other teammates are downstairs yet, but the sun is only just rising in the sky so that’s not out of the ordinary. He’s usually the first person awake, starting breakfast for the rest of the team and coffee for…

Steve trails off. He can’t recall that anyone on the team drinks coffee but for some reason he has a strong urge to brew a big pot because a small part of his brain knows it will be demolished in seconds. But by who? Clint can’t start his day without half a gallon of orange juice and Thor usually finished off the rest of the jug with him. Bruce and Natasha both bonded over their shared love of herbal teas, and Steve drinks milk. Chocolate milk if he’s feeling like getting a little wild. But none of them drink coffee.

Pulling open the fridge, Steve pulls out ingredients for bacon, eggs, and gluten-free blueberry waffles. Humming, Steve starts the stove, his movements sure as he sets down the pan and cracks open the eggs. He knows where everything in the kitchen is but he can’t get rid of the feeling of warm hands against his waist as lips find their way to the space behind his ear that always makes him shiver.

“Morning Cap,” Clint grumbles, digging into the fridge for his morning cup of orange juice. Steve will never understand how the archer drinks it so soon after brushing his teeth, but Steve doesn’t question him and his idiosyncrasies at this point.

Steve sets his bowl down so the batter can rise before turning to join the archer at the fridge, grabbing his own carton of milk. “Morning Clint, you sleep well?”

The archer nods, before he pauses, spine straightening as he sniffs at the air like a hunting dog on point. “Are you making blueberry waffles?”

“Blueberry gluten-free waffles.” Steve corrects with a proud grin.

His heart drops a little when Clint’s nose wrinkles in what looks like disgust. Steve was sure the waffles would be a hit with everyone. Instead, Clint digs through the cabinets for a bowl and spoon. “Do we still have your arch-nemesis’ cereal?”

Steve rolls his eyes reaching into the cabinet over the fridge to grab out the Cap’n Crunch. “He’s not my arch-nemesis,” Steve corrects, “he’s my secret lover.”

The words remind him of the ring around his finger and he wonders if his actual lover knows he’s having an affair with a cereal mascot.

Clint snorts, amusement in his blue eyes, partially hidden with ridiculous purple glasses that he always insists are in fashion. “Whatever you say, Cap.” He turns on his heel to dig through the cabinet for bowls and Steve returns his attention to the stove that’s hot enough for him to start making scrambled eggs for the team. Maybe the cheesy goodness of Steve’s famous breakfast will be enough to draw Clint away from the sugary cereal that honestly couldn’t be safe for a man of his age.

“Are you making eggs?” Are the first words out of Thor’s mouth as the elevator doors open on him and Bruce. The blond is beaming as he crosses the communal living room to plop himself down at the counter so he can watch Steve prod at the eggs with a spatula.

Steve grins, pride swelling in his chest as he flips the eggs in the pan. “I am making eggs, would you like to sprinkle the cheese in?”

Thor is always a little too generous when it comes to dairy products, but Steve doesn’t mind just to see the man happy. It’s probably a crime to make him anything but absolutely ecstatic and Steve is dreading the day he sees Thor pout. He doesn’t think he can survive the man’s big blue puppy dog eyes.

Natasha is last to step out of the elevator, her hair in waves falling around her shoulders as she walks toward the counter and plops into the seat on Thor’s other side. She rests her head in her hands, clearly still half asleep.

“Morning Nat,” Clint calls from where he’s sitting on top of the wooden breakfast table instead of in his usual seat. For some reason, the nickname tugs at something deep within him but he can’t remember why. Just as he was starting to hit his stride in forgetting his wrestling with his brain this morning, he’s thrown back into this prickling feeling that he can’t remember the most important thing in his life.

Steve pulls the blueberry waffles out of the press, sliding them onto an empty plate before putting the pan of eggs on a trivet. The bacon follows and Steve grabs a couple of plates out of the cabinet to pass out to the team so they can serve what they want.

The pan of eggs and bacon slowly empty, but no one on the team touches the waffles and Steve feels himself deflate, shoulders slumping. For some reason, he was so sure the waffles would warrant a positive reaction, but maybe Clint’s response of disgust this morning was more in tune to that of the rest of the team.

Serving himself the last of the bacon, eggs, and all four of the waffles he had made, Steve sits at the head of the table with the rest of the team, Clint dropping into his chair across from him to finish his cereal. There are six chairs at the table, the one to Steve’s right is empty and sending a shiver down his spine. There’s something wrong with this picture, but Steve can’t quite put his finger on it and that unsettles him. If there’s only ever five people at the table, why would they have an extra chair?

“Are you going into Shield today to meet with the team about upgrading our gear?” Nat asks eyeing Steve’s getup from where she’s shovelling bacon into her mouth.

Steve nods before his brows furrowed. Shield made all their gear? For some reason that rings false to Steve but he’s been feeling off since he got up, which he can’t even remember, so he goes along with what she’s saying. Maybe ‘fake it ‘till you make it’ was the way to go here. “Yeah, I’ll put in a request before my meeting with Director Fury.”

Steve finished off his breakfast, surprised at how hungry he was but instead of making him feel better, the food settles in Steve’s stomach like a lead weight. Sighing unhappily, Steve sets his plate in the sink, glad it’s not his turn to do dishes.

Quickly, he catches the elevator down and when he steps out into the garage, Steve is surprised at how empty it is. He knows there are five of them that live in the tower, but only his motorcycle is parked in the expansive lot. He can’t help but feel like there should be several sleek, expensive cars parked into the slots beside his.

He’s going to be late for work if he doesn’t leave now, but Steve needs to check in with his team again the moment he gets to Shield, it’s no use struggling through whatever this is alone and maybe they can help him figure out what’s going on.

Swinging his leg over his bike, Steve revs the engine, peeling out of the garage at top speed. He’s wearing what looks like a regular helmet but the moment he’s on the road, the glass lights up with directions and road conditions and construction detours. He’s surprised he’s forgotten his favourite thing about riding. Shield’s unparalleled technology.

A part of him remembers flying with the same kind of heads up display showing him air pressure and flight patterns and clouds and the weather. The memory is beautiful and breathtaking all at once but the origins of the thought confuse him. Maybe he had worn his bike helmet while Thor flew him around? But that sounds absolutely ridiculous and the laughter that accompanies that idea is female, not Thor’s booming guffawing that is recognisable anywhere.

Steve is stopped at a red light, his boots braced against the pavement when he turns to look up at Avengers tower. For some reason, Steve feels like it should be an “S” instead of an “A” which is surprising because Avengers doesn’t start with an “S” and Steve should know that because he’s far from grade school. He really is losing his mind.

The honking of a horn from behind him startles him out of his head and Steve shakes away his intrusive thoughts. He has way better things to do than entertain some weird ideas of how things should be. Clearly he’s gone a little off the deep end but he has a meeting with his Shield mandated therapist too so hopefully they can get this resolved together if these feelings are still lingering a week from now.

Then again, Steve isn’t entirely sure he can deal with the insanity of the feeling he’s forgetting something so integral to his being that it’s upsetting the balance of his entire life. Maybe he should call his therapist and see if he can get an appointment scheduled for this afternoon. It would be better than struggling with this for the rest of the day. He needs to tell someone about this before the memories eat him up from the inside out.

He pulls up to the shield parking lot, parking his bike and pulling his helmet off his head. Quickly running his hands through his hair, Steve jogs to the entrance swiping his identicard to get through the sleek sliding glass doors. His footsteps resound against the marble floor as Steve crosses the lobby.

The quad is bustling with agents, most of whom shoot him acknowledging nods as he passes. He offers them smiles in return, pulling his phone out of his belt pouch to swipe it open and pull up his contacts. He’s just about to call his therapist when he looks up to wave at the receptionist and stops in his tracks, hand frozen in mid-air.

Howard Stark’s picture is hanging above the receptionist’s desk and for some reason, Steve feels a rush of anger bubble to the surface. He doesn’t know why he has such a strong reaction to the face of his old friend. Howard had been kind to him, but Steve can’t shake the feeling of resentment he has upon seeing the picture. Gosh, he’s really off his game today, isn’t he?

The picture of Peggy hanging up right next to Howard’s soothes the angry rush in his soul and Steve smiles at the memory of her no-nonsense attitude and bold red lipstick. She would probably tell him to pull himself together but also say something super sweet that would make all his worries melt away. She was incredible like that and Steve misses her more and more every day.

Waving to the receptionist and trying to compose his features so he doesn’t look totally out of it, Steve heads to the locker room to set his tac bag down and splash some cold water on his face. Looking at himself in the mirror, Steve takes a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes and trying to go to his happy place.

He finds himself thinking about whiskey brown eyes and long flowing black hair curled around his fingers as a soft voice tells him everything is going to be okay. Always. There’s the soft feeling of lips against his warm cheeks accompanied by the comforting smell of leather and grease. The woman, whoever she is because Steve is entirely sure she’s imaginary, soothes his racing heart and he takes another deep breath that’s a lot more grounding.

Stepping back from the mirror, Steve pulls open his bag, grabbing out his folders for the day. Just as he is opening the briefing packet to start on his paperwork for the morning, the Avengers alarm on his phone goes off and Steve’s eyes widen as he rushes to get all of his things together to respond to the sudden call. Thankfully he had been smart enough to grab his shield on the way out of the tower so he doesn’t have to swing back home on the way to assess the threat.

More information comes through as Steve is running back through the lobby and out to where his bike is parked in front of the building. It isn’t a catastrophic level threat, just Loki in the middle of Central Park apparently performing Shakespeare like he has nothing better to do. Steve wouldn’t have had a huge problem with it if he wasn’t supposed to be in prison on Asgard for waging war against the Earth with a Chitauri army. Thor had been watching him for a while but had soon come back to Earth to stay with the Avengers. Without Thor there to keep watch over him, he had probably slipped his guards and come down here to make mischief and try and garner his brother’s attention again.

Honestly, Steve is grateful he doesn’t have to sit in a room with high ranking people listening to them complain about the weather and whatever else in New York displeases them. The most common complaint is about the smell and sure, the aroma of hot garbage isn’t particularly pleasant, but New York is home and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

A tugging sensation in Steve’s chest has him feeling a little out of sorts at that thought. Sure New York is home, but the integral part that makes it his safe place is missing. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was though. It was like photoshopping something out of a picture. You couldn’t tell what was gone, but you could feel the absence like missing a limb.

Steve hops onto his bike, jamming his helmet onto his head. It doesn’t light up, then again why would it. That was such a weird thought Steve chastises himself. He had thought about it this morning when he was driving into work, but now the memory has the same fuzzy quality in his mind that his childhood does. This new century really is messing with him. Revving the engine, he races down the street toward Central Park, the tires eating up the distance in no time.

The wind brushes over his hands, white-knuckled on the handlebars as Steve tries to navigate the busy streets. The last dregs of rush hour are dripping through the city and Steve tries his best not to get honked at too many times while making his way over. He thinks briefly about just flying into the fight, hanging on to one of his teammates and letting them drop him right in the middle of all the action. Thor is the only person on the team who can fly though and it seems kind of weird to ask the god for a ride like he is some kind of attraction.

Steve quickly parks his motorcycle in the grass and runs toward where he can hear the sounds of yelling in the middle of the park. The commotion takes him to Bethesda Terrace, the central fountain where people usually take wedding photos. The idea sends a pang through his chest, Steve knows this place is important to him, but for the life of him, he can’t remember why. A large staircase is behind him with a petrified looking hot dog vendor pushing his cart to safety. Steve shoots him an encouraging smile before focusing on Loki.

The god of mischief is perched on the back of the statue, each foot braced on the figure’s wings as his green cape pools against its shoulders and down his back. It’s a pretty commanding position, Steve will give him that. 

“Return the time stream back to the way it was,” Thor is yelling, standing atop the lip of the fountain with his cape swirling around him in the most regal way. He is all dark blond brows drawn low over stormy eyes as he faces his little brother with his hammer raised. Steve knows he won’t hurt him though because Thor has a soft spot for his family.

Skidding to a stop at his right-hand side, Steve pulls his shield off his back, raising it in front of him. He doesn’t know what Loki’s plans are but past experience has taught him to stay on his toes. He never really knows what the god is going to go for, or where he will appear if Steve lets his guard down. The last thing Steve wants is an ass-kicking when he’s already having a crappy day.

Absence settles in his chest and Steve does a headcount of all the present Avengers. Nat is at the top of the stairs leading down to the fountain, seemingly unwilling to get any closer and understandably so. Clint is at the bottom of the stairs, his bow drawn and aimed at Loki. Thor is in front of him and Bruce is on standby somewhere else in the park. “Are we down a team member?”

Still, Steve can’t help but feel a loss like he is missing someone to cover his six. But the other four of his team members will watch his back, he trusts them all with his life. All five of them are accounted for.

“We’re all here Cap.” Hawkeye murmurs from where he is shifting uneasily on his feet behind Steve.

At the same time, Loki laughs, deep and chilling as his fingertips swirl with green mist. “I just wanted to see what would happen to your so-called team without your beloved co-leader.”

It’s now Steve’s turn to be confused as he tips his head to the side in puzzlement. The word co-leader prods at something deep in the safety of his heart, niggling at the back of his brain as he tries to place why it means so much to him. He’s the only leader of the Avengers as far as he can recall.

“Loki, please return the world to its natural order and I won’t tell father that you escaped.” Thor bargains, a pleading note to his voice. It must be serious if Thor isn’t blasting Loki with lightning first and asking questions later.

So Steve wasn’t going crazy, something truly was missing and Steve could feel it with every ounce of his being. He’s not sure why no one else on the team mentioned anything, or maybe he’s the only one who feels it so strongly? Why him and not one of the spy twins who have much better intuition?

“What are you going to tell him then,” Loki asks with an eye roll, his arms crossed petulantly over his chest. He reminds Steve of a naughty child, except with powers that could end him in a heartbeat. “You disobeyed orders and let me out for some brotherly bonding time?”

The words are clearly meant to be a joke but by the looks of it, Thor is seriously considering it, his head tipped to the side in thought like a giant golden retriever.

“If that is what it takes for you to restore the timeline back to its natural order, then I do not mind telling father a half-truth.” Thor shrugs, taking a step into the fountain toward his brother, water splashing up his legs. “He will be happy to hear that we are getting along for once.”

“Fine,” Loki snaps his fingers sassily and disappears in a puff of green smoke like a discount magician.

In his place a burst of light explodes, illuminating the whole park in a brilliant shade of gold and rustling the leaves in the nearby trees, Steve raises his shield, ready for whatever tricks Loki has in store.

Instead a woman appears in his place, dark flowing hair and beautiful brown eyes like the woman from Steve’s mind earlier, the one that had calmed him down when he was freaking out in the Shield locker room. She’s decked out in red and gold, a glimmering suit of armour.

As the thought crosses his mind, it’s like the floodgates open and suddenly Steve is confronted with all of the memories he had been missing from the last ten years, the beautiful woman he had married in the centre of all of them. It’s like he’s drowning in them and he chokes on thin air and emotion, his shield falling to the grass beside him with a muted thump.

The sound draws her attention and she turns to him, her face lighting up the way it always does. It’s like the stars align, coming home and flying all at once, suddenly his whole day makes sense again and he’s overcome with longing to hold her in his arms again.

“Tasha!” Steve exclaims excited to see his wife after what feels like forever apart. It’s only been a day, but it’s not one that Steve ever wants to repeat again because it was like going through hell and back. Suddenly it feels like everything is settling into place and a wave of calm washes over him like nothing he’s ever felt before, the pieces of his life fitting together perfectly to show him exactly what he was missing.

She fires up her boot jets, careful to not get her suit wet as she flies around Thor and drops down in front of Steve. She’s even more beautiful up close, brown eyes framed with inky lashes as her pink lips quirk up in a smile. Steve wants to gather up every part of her and hold her close to his chest, never letting her go.

He loves everything about her, the way that she loves blueberries and puts them in everything she can. He loves the way she runs her fingers across his shoulders while she is talking to him, whether as a means to distract him or out of sheer habit in all the years they’ve spent together, side by side. He missed the melodious sound of her voice like a limb, loving as she soothes him after nightmares, speaks through problems so they could find a better solution together, whispers as she mouths her vows against his skin whenever she can

“Steve,” she cups his face standing on the tips of her toes to press a soft, loving kiss to his lips. She tastes like coconut chapstick and her beloved ethiopian coffee. Steve can’t believe he ever forgot her. “What’s wrong beloved?”

“I lost you,” Steve mumbles, not even realising that tears are streaming down his face until Tasha is wiping them away with the pads of her fingers, a small smile on her face. Steve hugs her close, burying his nose in her neck and inhaling the smell of leather and grease and home. “I lost you and I didn’t even know it and if it hadn’t been for Thor, I never would have.”

From the thoughtful sound she makes it’s clear that she has no idea what he’s talking about but she runs her fingers through his hair anyway, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and nosing against his jaw. “I don’t know what happened, my love, but I’m here now and I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”

Steve can feel the hard metal of her wedding band as she strokes the back of his neck and he remembers his own, he can’t believe that the letters engraved on the inside could ever mean anything other than Tasha Stark, the love of his life. He remembers the dog tags he was looking for this morning, the ones that Tasha has worn around her neck every day since they started dated. He can’t believe he forgot the beautiful music of the metal tags clinking against the glass of the arc reactor, the sound that meant his beloved was near and she was with him.

“Natasha-” he whimpers brokenly, the words cracked on his thin voice.

“Steven,” she teases her hands smoothing across his shoulders. She pulls back if only to look at him, unable to resist pressing a kiss ot his nose with a laugh. “Only my dad calls me Natasha, what gives?”

“I love you so much,” Steve kisses the words against her skin pulling her against him until he isn’t sure that they can get any closer.

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Tasha kisses his cheek again, her lashes brushing against his cheekbone in the most comforting way. “I love you too. Now, let’s go home, okay sweetheart.”

Steve nods, pulling away from her but keeping a hand around her waist to press her against his side. Tasha is his anchor in this new and unforgiving time and he doesn’t know how he ever survived without her, his rock and his everything. She was the one who picked him up when he was feeling down and kissed all the broken bits of him better. She was the one he fought to come home to, loved knowing that she was always right by his side.

“You are my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](https://starksnack.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/starksnack/).


End file.
